A Carriage for the Midwife (26 page)

‘Oh, Edward, I am half afraid she will be out – and half afraid that she will be in.’

‘Then, Henry, you must go and find out!’

She was in – and the joy in her eyes on beholding Henry was all that he could have wished. Edward turned away as his cousin and his good friend embraced each other, but after a moment or two she called out to him.

‘And Edward, dear Cousin Edward, how good it is to see your face again!’ She held out both hands to him. ‘I take it you have not yet been home?’

When they assured her that this was their first port of call, she advised them against mentioning this when they reached their respective homes, for fear of offending their parents.

‘But, Sophy, I have come to ask for news of Susan Lucket,’ explained Edward. ‘Is she at the Bennetts’? And does she still assist Mrs Coulter?’

Sophia hesitated for a moment, and then asked him to step into the parlour with her.

‘I had better have a little talk with you, Edward, if Henry will excuse us. I will tell you what you have clearly not yet heard about Mistress Lucket.’

‘What is it, Sophy? Pray tell me at once – is she not well?’ he asked in alarm.

The news of Susan’s changed circumstances was soon told, and Edward was thunderstruck.

‘
What?
In heaven’s name,
why
? How came she to be shut up in that godforsaken place?’

Sophia told him about Dr Parnham’s proposition, to his great indignation.

‘How dare he subject her to such degradation?’

‘My dear Edward, I can see that you have been changed by life at sea, and your Susan is also changed. She is no longer the poor child from the Ash-Pits, nor maidservant in a farmer’s household. She is a skilled and capable midwife, and has quite transformed the infirmary at the House of Industry. Dr Parnham speaks very highly—’

‘But, Sophy, I have come to offer her
marriage
. She cannot stay in there!’

‘Hear me out, Edward,’ ordered Sophia with a touch of the nursery governess in her expression. ‘Susan is training for work of essential importance to Beversley. Mrs Coulter grows daily more infirm, and needs a successor. Susan has a strength and inner resource that I am sure is God-given.’

She paused and clasped her hands together on her lap. Even in his anxious concern for Susan, Edward could not help but be struck by the lively sincerity that shone in her clear blue eyes. He had never previously thought of his cousin as a beauty, but now she seemed to glow from within.

‘There is something of the wise woman about her, Edward, though she is but a maiden, and there are those who object to her doing such work, for propriety’s sake.’

‘Then I can be of use to her, Sophy, for I can bestow on her the protection of my name. I soon have to go back to sea, so if she wishes to continue at that wretched place and learn from that confounded doctor, she will do so as Mrs Edward Calthorpe. And then nobody will dare to object!’

‘Ah, Edward, I can see that you mean what you say, but there will be great objections to such a marriage, especially now that—’

She checked herself. Edward must go home and find out for himself how things were. ‘I wish you success in your hopes, Cousin, but please do not tell your parents straight away. Let them enjoy one night of your company, and go to visit Susan tomorrow.’

‘Very well, Sophy, I will deny myself until tomorrow morning,’ he told her reluctantly. ‘But I shall not waver, not for any reason. And now I had better leave you, or Henry will say I am no friend of his! Good day to you, Sophy.’

They kissed, and Sophia hoped that her smiles hid the unease she felt as she watched him walk away. Then she turned and held out her arms to Henry.

As soon as Edward crossed the threshold of Bever House he sensed trouble, though his father greeted him with joy.

‘I cannot tell you how happy we are that you are sent safely home to us, Edward!’ he said, while Selina and Caroline’s tearful embraces alerted him to ill news. Just for a moment, for a split second of time, he thought Osmond must be dead, but in his mother’s welcome all was explained. He listened in mounting horror as she told of their sorrow, and took himself to his brother before even changing his dust-whitened clothes.

Osmond was sitting out on the terrace at the back, a table with a decanter and glasses at his side.

‘How you are changed, Ned! I declare you’ve doubled in size,’ he remarked on beholding the broadened frame and weathered face. ‘No doubt of it, the navy offers the easier option.’

Edward let this pass, and said that he thanked God for his brother’s survival. He soon discovered that the invalid ruled the household, with family and servants deferring to his every whim, and the atmosphere dependent on his swings of mood from day to day. They all looked to the younger brother to dispel Osmond’s gloom and revive his hopes for the future.

Edward now understood why Sophia said that he should keep his wedding plans to himself on this first day at home.

After dinner the brothers talked about their experiences of service life, and Edward did his best to be encouraging.

‘You will do him more good than anything else,’ said Mr Calthorpe when Osmond had been taken to his bed, having imbibed a fair amount of wine.

Edward’s conscience pricked at the thought of how soon he planned to desert them all to wed his Susan; he felt that he could not deceive his father any longer.

‘Are you walking out with the dogs, Father? If so I will come with you.’

‘Ah, I shall be glad of that, Edward,’ came the heartfelt answer, and the two of them set out to walk around the boundary of the estate in the cool of the evening.

‘You are just what Osmond needs at this time, Edward.’

The moment of truth had come.

‘Father, I have something to tell you, and you will not be pleased. I have but three weeks of leave before I must return to sea on the
Bucephalus
, and during this time I must marry the girl I love. You know her name, Father – Susan Lucket. She works as a midwife in the House of Industry, and tomorrow I shall ride over to Belhampton and ask her to be my wife – and when we are united, I must spend what precious time I have with her. Oh, Father, I am sorry, but I have to put Susan first. I have loved her all my life.’

It had been said, and Edward stopped speaking and looked at his father to see the effect of what he expected would be a bitter disappointment. They walked on for several yards in silence, and then Calthorpe stopped and laid his hand on his son’s arm.

‘I cannot give you my official approval, Edward,’ he said heavily. ‘Your mother will be heartbroken, and will have no good to say of your intention. Life will not be easy for you, either now or in the future.’

‘But, Father, I am prepared for difficulties – maybe poverty at first – but Susan and I will live thriftily after the war, when I start to practise. And if I should not return—’

‘My son, do not say it, I beg you!’ Checking the rising tide of emotion in his voice, Calthorpe went on quickly, ‘After the trouble we have had with your poor brother, my attitudes are somewhat changed, and I wish for nothing but my children’s happiness, Edward. Your mother will never receive your – your wife at Bever House, but I think I have always known that this would happen, and as your father I wish you well.’

‘Thank you, Father. That means a great deal to me.’

‘And shall make it my business, privately, to ride over and visit your wife from time to time. I should go to that place more often anyway, seeing that I am on the Board of Guardians.’

Edward was overcome by this unexpected sympathy, and felt a rush of affection towards his father, whose sufferings of the past two months had left their mark.

‘God bless you, Father, from my heart. I am truly sorry to cause you and my mother distress at such a time.’

‘I know, my boy, I know. And I shall not forget that her – that Susan’s children will be of my own blood.’

Nothing further was said, but their brief, silent embrace told more than words could have done.

At the breakfast table the next morning Edward felt that he might as well have pitched a cannonball into the room. Gertrude Calthorpe gave a shriek and dissolved into angry tears, Selina and Caroline were contemptuous and Osmond merely baffled.

‘You can have the girl, can’t you, Ned, without having to marry her, surely?’ he muttered in a low tone. ‘No need to let her trap you for life! Come, there is still time to stop and consider your future.’

‘Don’t expect me ever to receive her at Bever House,’ raged Mrs Calthorpe. ‘You will have no standing in the county with that low-born girl as a wife. You should hear the complaints I receive from respectable women who are deeply shocked that an unmarried girl dabbles in practices that no decent woman should even speak of, matters I would not repeat in front of your sisters. You will share in the shame of it if you marry her, and it will fall upon us all.’

‘On the contrary, Mother, I shall raise her to the status of a married woman, so that she may practise her craft without giving rise to such spiteful gossip,’ Edward retorted.

‘And can’t you see that she has trapped you for that very reason, just to serve her own ends?’ shrilled Gertrude.

‘Look, Mother, Dr Parnham and Cousin Sophy have the greatest praise for—’

‘Yes, oh, yes! Thanks again to that bastard cousin of yours who gave the wretched girl ideas above her station in the first place – and tricked Henry Hansford away from Selina – oh, she has been the curse of this house! Oh, go away, go away, and leave me alone, for heaven’s sake!’

Her voice rose hysterically, bringing a couple of maidservants hurrying in. Edward felt there was nothing to stay for, so saddled his horse and rode off to Belhampton and the House of Industry. He had waited long enough to see the dearest girl in the world.

CHARLES PARNHAM COULD
not make up his mind. It was his habit to spend two mornings with his students and two or three visiting his patients, though there was no set pattern to his working day because of the summonses that came in at all hours. Records and correspondence had to be dealt with when time allowed, and he had planned to spend this morning at his desk.

There were two women nearing their time at the House of Industry, and Parnham considered riding over to see how they did. He knew that there was not the slightest need for him to do so, because
she
would look after them and let him know of any untoward developments. He could rely on her absolutely.

He reluctantly took up his quill, wishing that a messenger would call him to a bedside. This must be the effect of Elizabeth’s death, he thought: his patient wife had suffered years of encroaching muscle weakness, resigning her dreams of motherhood to the barren sickliness that claimed her while he was increasingly away from home, attending more fortunate wives.

Poor Elizabeth. He had engaged two extra women servants to ensure that she had every care and attention, and he had been a faithful husband, though it was more than a decade since he had shared her bed. She had never complained about her lot, and he had always assumed a cheerful manner in her presence, never talking of the sometimes joyful, sometimes tragic scenes in which he had to play his part.

Whereas little Trotula shared every aspect of his work.

Charles sighed heavily. Self-doubt and regret were added to the dull pain of grieving, and only God knew how he had felt on that morning six weeks ago when the maidservants had called him to Elizabeth’s side at dawn, to find that her life had quietly ebbed away in sleep. He had felt shock, yes, sorrow and distress, of course – but something else, which he was only now able to acknowledge to himself: he was free.

If he chose to do so, he could ride over to the Belhampton workhouse and visit whomsoever he pleased; and if the gossips wagged their tongues about the young, unmarried midwife – and he suspected that Croker and Jarvis already did – well then, there could be a remedy for it.

Charles Parnham drew himself up short: his thoughts were racing on ahead like a galloping horse, and his wife hardly cold in her grave. It was important to preserve his usual daily habits during this early period of widowerhood, he told himself; it was not a time to give way to impulses, to rush headlong into any new situation.

He must wait. Yes, of course, he must wait . . .

To the devil with waiting.

He dropped the pen and rose from his desk. Within ten minutes he had saddled the mare and turned her head towards the place that drew him like a magnet.

‘Now, children, pay attention, all o’ ye, and that means Jemmy too. Everybody look this way, and we’ll say the alphabet together.’

The dozen children sitting along each side of a trestle table on forms provided by Dr Parnham began to recite in ragged chorus.

‘A, B, C, D, E, F, G . . .’

From then on they became less sure, and Susan had to prompt them: ‘H, I, J, K, L, M, N—’

When she stopped, their voices straggled off into silence, and they stared uncertainly at her and at each other. Except for seven-year-old Dorcas, who continued through to X, Y and Z with a dogged seriousness that made Susan long to hug her and tell her what a clever girl she was; only that would not be fair on Toby, who was too scared to open his mouth, and Nan who had a hare lip and would never speak clearly. Not to mention Jemmy, who was twelve but could only scribble on his slate with less understanding than the youngest in the class.

When, with the backing of Dr Parnham, Susan had persuaded the House Master – which meant Mrs Croker – to let the orphans leave their menial tasks on two mornings each week, the children had not known what to expect and it had taken Susan an hour just to tell them about the wonderful signs that could be written on the slates supplied by Miss Glover.

‘And we don’t only write them down, children, we can
say
them too. Let me tell you the sounds that the letters make!’

The gradual awakening of interest in their dull eyes had been more reward than Susan had ever dreamed of. Always ordered to keep quiet, the children were cautious at first in their attempts to make the sounds that she gave to each letter, but as she encouraged them they grew bolder and each one in his or her own way began to respond. And Susan in her turn responded to them.